


when my heart's gone bitter

by smallredboy



Category: House M.D.
Genre: Banter, Caretaking, House Being House, M/M, Pre-Slash, Sickfic, Vomiting, stomach flu
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-14
Updated: 2019-07-14
Packaged: 2020-06-28 10:32:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,058
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19810465
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/smallredboy/pseuds/smallredboy
Summary: Chase is sick and House pretends to be reluctant about taking care of him.





	when my heart's gone bitter

**Author's Note:**

  * For [MysteryWriter36](https://archiveofourown.org/users/MysteryWriter36/gifts).



> for badthingshappenbingo - reluctant caretaker, hc-bingo - taking care of somebody, 15kisses - oblivious and genprompt-bingo - early hours before dawn.
> 
> title from _he is the boss of me_ by the hidden cameras.
> 
> also a fill for a request from whom i gifted this to! love u, dear!
> 
> enjoy!

House knows he is armed with excuses when he breaks into Chase’s place, so he has nothing to worry about.

Chase hasn’t gone to work in a couple days— the only reason why he’d skip work is if he was sick. And after looking through the records, Cuddy was noticed of sick leave. So he has to go and pester him, or go and take care of him, whichever way was better to look at it. 

He opens the door to Chase’s bedroom.

Chase is there, only in his boxers, sweating and on top of the bed, staring off into space and a hand on his belly. He wants to make a joke about Chase being half-naked, something or other about how he’s practically showing off, but he bites his tongue on the matter. He raps his cane on the wall, and Chase jumps in surprise, staring at him wide-eyed.

“H-House! Why are you here?” he squeaks out.

He rolls his eyes and grabs a chair, plopping down on it. “Why do you think?”

“I d-dunno.” He coughs a little and House’s nose wrinkles up. “To make fun of me?”

“To take care of you,” he says, kicking at one of the bed legs with his cane. “I thought that much would be obvious.”

Chase squints and coughs again, covering his mouth this time around. “Why would you take care of me while- while I’m sick?”

He rolls his eyes. Chase is more oblivious than he’d ever thought he’d be. He’s a young, sucessful doctor, there should be some brains in a doctor like him. But there aren’t, apparently.

“Because,” he starts. “You’ve got no family. And like, no friends.”

“I do have friends!” he squeaks indignantly.

“Whatever girl you’re sleeping with this time, I promise you, does not consider you a ‘friend’.”

“House—”

He sighs and rolls his eyes. “Yes, whatever, whatever you think, blondie. My point is that you do not have many relationships with anyone. You’re a lonely slut. What an oxymoron.”

He huffs. “Like you’re the one to talk.”

“I have Wilson, for your information,” he says as he reaches for the thermometer he kept in his pocket. “Say ah.”

“House, I have the stomach flu, there’s no need—”

He still jabs the thermometer into Chase’s open mouth— he gags a little before he sticks his tongue out, looking at House with that annoyance so unlike him. He keeps it there for a few seconds before taking it out and looking at it. 

“You’re a little feverish,” he tells him.

Chase clears his throat and makes a vague motion to the fact he’s shirtless. “Geez, had no idea,” he says sarcastically.

He pokes his ribs gently, almost teasingly. “Yeah, yeah, don’t be sarcastic now. If you’ve got the stomach flu, are we talking up or down?”

He stares at him.

“There are more interesting, embarassing things you could tell me, you know,” House says.

He closes his eyes. “Up,” he says.

“Okay.” He immediately stands up and discards his ideas of kissing Chase. Not now, at least. He leaves the thermometer on the nightstand. “I’ll go be in the living room. I’m sure you can deal with throwing up on your own.”

Chase rolls his eyes at him and nods.

* * *

It’s three in the morning when House wakes up to someone running, floors creaking underneath him.

He groans and straightens up, pain shooting up his leg. He sighs and limps towards the bathroom, hearing Chase retch into the toilet. He opens the door and hums.

“Well, this is awkward,” he says, resisting the urge to lean down and stroke Chase’s hair comfortingly. That would  _ completely  _ ruin his act of being reluctant to take care of him. “You’re on your knees in the same room as me. Don’t you have any decency?”

Chase retches more and he clings onto the toilet seat, his face way more pale than normal. He turns to grab the toilet paper, but before he can do so House rushes to take some out and wipe Chase’s face clean of any bits of food left.

Chase coughs a litle and looks up at him, exhausted. “You’re an ass,” he says.

“If you’d like me to put the bits of food back on your face just say so,” he snaps at him.

Chase yawns a little and shakes his head. “I’m good.”

House nods. “I should… get you something to eat.”

“I just threw up, food isn’t in the list of my priorities.”

“Water, then?”

Chase clears his throat and tries to get himself up. Before he can fall, House grabs him by his stomach, guiding him up and letting him lean against him. 

“Water— water would be good,” he says shakily as he clings onto the sink. House pulls away from him and turns the faucet on. He puts a hand on the small of Chase’s back as he leans down to drink straight from it.

After a few seconds, Chase looks up at him. “You’re not doing this out of any  _ obligation  _ because I’m a lonely slut,” he says without any hesitance in his voice. “You’re not reluctant.”

House’s lip trembles a little and he looks away. “Well, perhaps I enjoy seeing you suffer.”

“Then you wouldn’t have helped me get up. Or cleaned my face. Or—”

“Yes, I get it,” he cuts him short.

Chase groans and squirms away from his hold, looking at him accusingly, a faint blush going right into his cheeks.

“If you plan to start harassing me like you do with Cuddy, I’d prefer if you started really going at it when I’m back at work.”

“I’ve always harassed you like I do with Cuddy,” he replies with a small smile. “But of course.”

Chase gives him one of those smug, pretty smiles that he wants to kiss senseless and he nods sharply, heading back to his room. It’s almost like he’s dragging himself there, granted, with how weak he is with being sick and whatnot.

“I’ll wake you to some food, if you’d like that. I’m an okay cook.”

Chase grumbles and gets inside his bed, leaning into his pillow. “You’re a sappy old man,” he mutters under his breath. “I’d like that, though.”

He smiles and heads to the kitchen as Chase sleeps. He knows it won’t hold into harassment territory for much.


End file.
